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Objective Interpretive

Rhetorical traditionSocio-psychological tradition

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Symbolic Convergence Theoryof Ernest Bormann

In the introduction to this section on group communication, I refer to Harvard social psychologist Robert Bales’ work to categorize comments made in small-group discussions. On the basis of his research with zero-history problem-solving groups in his lab, Bales discovered that dramatizing was a signi! cant type of communication that often fostered group cohesiveness. 1 The late University of Minnesota communication professor Ernest Bormann picked up on Bales’ ! nd-ing and undertook a more extensive study of newly formed groups to examine leadership emergence, decision making, norms, cohesiveness, and a number of other features of group life. 2 Similar to Bales, Bormann and his team of colleagues observed that group members often dramatized events happening outside the group, things that took place at previous meetings, or what might possibly occur among them in the future. Sometimes these stories fell " at and the discussion moved in a different direction. But at other times group members responded enthusiastically by adding on to the story or chiming in with their own matching narratives. When the drama was enhanced in this way, members developed a common group consciousness and drew closer together. On the basis of extensive case studies, Bormann set forth the central explanatory principle of symbolic convergence theory (SCT):

Sharing group fantasies creates symbolic convergence. 3

When she read about Bormann’s theory, Maggie had no dif! culty illustrating this core claim. Two weeks before my communication course began, she served as a student leader in the “Wheaton Passage” program for new freshmen that’s held at a camp in Wisconsin’s Northwoods. One of the stated goals of this optional offering is to build intentional community. In her application log, Maggie wrote of unplanned communication that achieved this end.

Cabin 8 was the rustic, run-down cabin that my group of Passage students was

assigned to live in for the week. My co-leader and I decked the cabin out with

decorations by hanging Christmas lights and origami doves, yet there was no

19CHAPTER

248 GROUP AND PUBLIC COMMUNICATION

escaping the massive holes in the screens, sticky messes in the drawers, and the

spiders residing in the rafters. The night students arrived, we walked our group of

girls past the brand new cabins, arrived at our old cabin, and presented Cabin 8—

their home for a week. Needless to say, they were less than pleased.

The next day as our group was trekking to our morning activity, one of the girls

brought up what she thought the perfect cabin would look like. Others jumped in

with their ideas. For 10 minutes, each girl contributed something to the discussion

of the fantasy cabin. Hot tubs, screened-in porches, soft carpet, lounge chairs, and a

glass roof for stargazing were all mentioned as features in their ideal cabin. Look-

ing back on this experience, I see how this shared fantasy played a role in our

cabin bonding. As the week went on, our dream cabin became a running joke

within our group that helped students develop a sense of closeness—what they

deemed “hardcoreness.” While living in the crummy cabin, they frequently revis-

ited the image of the ideal cabin they created in their conversation.

DRAMATIZING MESSAGES: CREATIVE INTERPRETATIONS OF THERE-AND-THEN

Many comments in task-oriented discussion groups offer lines of argument, fac-tual information, members’ opinions, and suggestions for how the group should proceed. That’s the kind of member contribution Hirokawa and Gouran’s func-tional perspective values (see Chapter 18). Advocates of rational discussion believe it’s usually disruptive and counterproductive when someone cracks a joke, describes a movie, or starts talking about plans for the upcoming weekend. Not so for Bormann. SCT classi! es these examples and many other forms of speaking as dramatizing messages and believes that conversations about things outside of what’s going on right now can often serve the group well. A dramatizing message is one that contains imaginative language such as a pun or other wordplay, double entendre, ! gure of speech (e.g., metaphor, simile, personi! cation), analogy, anecdote, allegory, fable, narrative, or other creative expression of ideas. Whatever the form, the dramatizing message describes events occurring somewhere else and/or at some time other than the here-and-now. 4 Notice ! rst that a group member’s words must paint a picture or call to mind an image in order to be labeled a dramatizing message. A report that the Dow Jones stock average rose 500 points can be important news for members, but it’s not dramatizing in the way that Bormann used the term. Second, a vivid message would qualify as dramatizing if it either describes something outside the group or portrays an event that has happened within the group in the past or might happen to the group in the future. Comments that have no imagery or those that refer to what’s currently going on in the group make up the bulk of most group discussions. They aren’t dramatizing messages. When Maggie’s girls started to verbally construct their ideal cabin, they were using imaginative language to talk about what they’d like to see in the future, probably wishing it would magically appear that night. If in a darker tone one of the girls expressed her hope that someone would set ! re to the cabin before they returned, that message would also be dramatizing. But if the group of girls sat around in the cabin grousing about the spiders, mosquitoes, and sticky goo in the drawers, those comments would be about the here-and-now and wouldn’t be de! ned as dramatizing messages. Why is this distinction so important to Bormann and SCT advocates? Because dramatizing messages are interpretive. They aren’t knee-jerk responses to

Dramatizing message Imaginative language by a group member describ-ing past, future, or out-side events; creative interpretations of there-and-then.

CHAPTER 19: SYMBOLIC CONVERGENCE THEORY 249

experiences of the moment. “Dramatizing accounts of past occurrences artisti-cally organize what are usually more complex, ambiguous, and chaotic experi-ences.” 5 They help the speaker, and sometimes the listeners, make sense out of a confusing situation or bring some clarity to an uncertain future. Whether or not other group members connect with their imagery, dramatizing messages are creative interpretations of the there-and-then.

Some people use the term fantasy to refer to children’s literature, sexual desire, or things “not true.” Bormann, however, reserved the term fantasy for dramatiz-ing messages that are enthusiastically embraced by the whole group. Most dra-matizing messages don’t get that kind of reaction. They often fall on deaf ears, or group members listen but take a ho-hum attitude toward what was said. Of course, an embarrassing silence or a quick change of subject makes it obvious that the dramatizing message has fallen ! at. There may even be group members who openly oppose what was said. Yet as Bormann noted, “Some dramatizing messages cause a symbolic explosion in the form of a chain reaction in which members join in until the entire group comes alive.” 6 He described what he had seen when a fantasy chains out in this way:

The tempo of the conversation would pick up. People would grow excited, inter-

rupt one another, blush, laugh, forget their self-consciousness. The tone of the

meeting, often quiet and tense immediately prior to the dramatizing, would

FANTASY CHAIN REACTIONS: UNPREDICTABLE SYMBOLIC EXPLOSIONS

“Pardon us, Harrison, if the board fails to share your enthusiasm for the foliage up in Darien.”

© Jack Ziegler/The New Yorker Collection/www.cartoonbank.com


become lively, animated, and boisterous, the chaining process, involving both the

verbal and nonverbal communication, indicating participation in the drama. 7

A concrete example of a fantasy chain and its results may be helpful. Uni-versity of Kentucky communication professor Alan DeSantis asks us to picture a group of Kentucky-born, middle-aged white guys sitting around a cigar store smoking hand-rolled imported cigars. As the topic shifts from college basketball to the risk of smoking, the owner tells the story of a heart surgeon who came into the shop after having been on duty for 36 hours. After lighting up, the doc-tor blew out a big mouthful of smoke and said, “This is the most relaxed I have felt in days. Now how can that be bad for you?” 8 Whether or not the doctor really said this isn’t the issue. Symbolic conver-gence theory is concerned with the group’s response to the tale. In this case the patrons chuckle in appreciation, nod in agreement, or say “You’ve got it!” to punctuate the narrative. Some vie to tell their own stories that dismiss the harm of cigar smoking, a pastime that they consider a benign hobby. Bormann said that we can spot a fantasy chain through a common response to the imagery. DeSantis, who was a cigar-smoking participant-observer among the shop’s regu-lar customers, af" rms that the group’s response to the owner’s story paralleled Bormann’s description above. Symbolic convergence researchers have had little success predicting when a fantasy will ignite and trigger a chain reaction. They’ve found there’s a better chance of a fantasy chaining out when the group is frustrated (as were Maggie’s girls) or when they are bogged down in an effort to solve a thorny problem. Also, members with rhetorical skill seem to have a better chance of providing the spark, but there’s no guarantee that their words will ignite others. And even when a skillful image-maker does spark a fantasy chain, he or she has little control over where the conversation will go. Fantasy chains seem to have a life of their own. But once a fantasy chain catches " re, symbolic convergence theory predicts that the group will converge around a fantasy theme.

Fantasy chain A symbolic explosion of lively agreement within a group in response to a member’s dramatizing message.

FANTASY THEMES—CONTENT, MOTIVES, CUES, TYPES

Bormann’s technical de" nition of fantasy is “the creative and imaginative shared interpretation of events that ful" lls a group’s psychological or rhetorical needs.” 9 Think of a fantasy theme as the content of the dramatizing message that suc-cessfully sparks a fantasy chain. As such, it’s the theory’s basic unit of analysis. Because fantasy themes re# ect and create a group’s culture, all SCT researchers seek to identify the fantasy theme or themes that group members share. When spotted, fantasy themes are consistently ordered and always interpretive, and they inevitably put the group’s slant on things. That is, fantasy themes act as a rhetorical means to sway doubters or naysayers. When a fantasy chains out among core patrons in the cigar store, we would expect to see that same theme run throughout multiple narratives—à la Seinfeld . Perhaps the hero of every man’s account is a famous cigar smoker who lived into old age without ill effects—George Burns, Winston Churchill, or Fidel Castro. Or maybe each image re# ects a meddling government bureaucrat who wants to limit their right to enjoy a cigar in a public place. Along with examples of long-lived smokers, group fantasies might focus on the difference between cigars and cigarettes, safety in moderation, inconsistent scienti" c " ndings concerning

Fantasy The creative and imagi-native shared interpreta-tion of events that fulfills a group’s psychological or rhetorical needs.

Fantasy theme Content of the fantasy that has chained out within a group; SCT’s basic unit of analysis.


cancer, the greater risks of everyday living, and the health bene� ts of relaxation that come from smoking a good cigar. All of these fantasies have the same basic theme— cigar smoking is safe . Bormann suggested that group members’ meanings, emotions, motives, and actions are apparent in their fantasy themes. We can see all four of these in DeSantis’ description of the angst that the core group of patrons experienced at the premature death of their friend Greg. Like the rest of the store’s regulars who sat around smoking, Greg had scoffed at the health risks of their practice. Now they were confronted with the sobering fact of his fatal heart attack. Within a week of the funeral, however, his smoking buddies had constructed a verbal collage of images depicting Greg’s stressful lifestyle. The store owner voiced their consensus: “Smoking had nothing to do with his death. He lived, drank and played hard and it took a toll on him at the end.” 10 Meaning: Hard living killed Greg. Emotion: Reduction of fear, relief. Motive: Desire to smoke with buddies. Action: Not going to quit. Bormann and symbolic convergence theory advocates have found that many fantasy themes are indexed by a symbolic cue . A symbolic cue is “an agreed-upon trigger that sets off the group members to respond as they did when they � rst shared the fantasy.” 11 It could be a code word, nonverbal gesture, phrase, slogan, inside joke, bumper sticker, or any shorthand way of re-establishing the full force of shared fantasy. In the Kentucky smoke shop where these fantasy themes were voiced, any mention of criticism of cigar smoking from family or friends was the cue that set off a new round of protest among store regulars. Their emotional reaction was captured on a T-shirt sold at the store that satirized the Surgeon General’s cautionary statement: “Warning—Harassing me about my smoking can be hazardous to your health.” 12 The meaning of a given fantasy theme is quite speci� c. Because clusters of related fantasy themes sometimes surface again and again in different groups, Bormann found it helpful to have a label to classify this phenomenon when it occurs. He used the term fantasy type to describe these well-worn symbolic paths. Fantasy types are “greater abstractions incorporating several concrete fantasy themes” and they exist “when shared meaning is taken for granted.” 13 The cigar store group’s fantasy theme of family and friends criticizing their smoking could be considered part of a larger “get-off-my-case” fantasy type. Perhaps that’s a fantasy type that you and your friends have drawn upon when talking about your lifestyle, even if you’ve never smoked a cigar. Or students at your school may share stock fantasy types about Saturday night parties, the food on campus, professors who never seem to be in their of� ces, or the guy who always bails out at the last minute on a group project.

Symbolic cue An agreed-upon trigger that sets off group mem-bers to respond as they did when they first shared the fantasy.

Fantasy type A cluster of related fan-tasy themes; greater ab-stractions incorporating several concrete fantasy themes that exist when shared meaning is taken for granted.

SYMBOLIC CONVERGENCE: GROUP CONSCIOUSNESS AND OFTEN COHESIVENESS

The discussion of dramatizing messages, fantasy chains, and fantasy themes has dealt with the � rst part of SCT’s core principle: Sharing group fantasies creates symbolic convergence. We’re now ready to look at what that sharing creates—symbolic convergence. For Bormann, symbolic convergence meant the way in which “two or more private symbol worlds incline toward each other, come more closely together, or even overlap.” 14 As those worlds intersect, group members develop a unique group consciousness. No longer do members think in terms of


I, me, and mine. As symbolic overlap takes place, they begin to think and speak about we, us, and ours . Do shared fantasies really cause this group transformation? Bormann insisted that they do. Some limited commonality of words and images may naturally occur when group members interact often enough over a long period of time. But the process is accelerated and extended way beyond what otherwise might happen when members participate in one or more fantasy chains that create joint fantasy themes. Bormann used a variety of terms to portray the effect of group consciousness— common ground, meeting of the minds, mutual understanding, groupi-ness, common social reality, and empathic communion. Once a group experiences symbolic convergence, Bormann suggested that it’s important for members to memorialize their group consciousness with a name and recorded history ( saga ) that recalls moments when fantasies chained out. He did that with his U of M colleagues who met in the Bormann home every Wednesday night to discuss the ideas that make up symbolic convergence theory. They called themselves the Turtle Racers —presumably based on an illustrated poster with the caption “Behold the turtle who makes progress only when he sticks his neck out.” The image of a turtle race seemed doubly appropriate to their history of theory building when Bormann described the work going for-ward in ! ts and starts. Symbolic convergence usually results in heightened group cohesiveness —members attracted to each other and sticking together through thick and thin. But not always. Bormann regarded symbolic convergence as usually a necessary but not suf! cient cause of cohesiveness.

Groups that do little fantasizing are seldom highly attractive and cohesive. Such

groups tend to be boring and ordinary. The cohesive groups have usually done

considerable fantasizing, but not all groups that fantasize a lot are rewarding and

cohesive. The fantasies that chain may contribute to creating a social reality that is

warm, friendly and hard working, that provides the group with a strong identity

and self image, and that gives members a sense of purpose and meaning for their

group’s work. On the other hand, the fantasies may develop a group climate that

is fascinating, frustrating, and punishing. 15

Bormann went on to say that fantasy themes in those negative groups are riddled with con" ict and that the humor expressed tends to be satire, ridicule, or sarcasm. I was in such a group my sophomore year of college, and he was right—it was fascinating. Fortunately I had enough sense to get out.

Symbolic convergence Two or more private symbol worlds incline to-ward each other, come more closely together, or even overlap; group con-sciousness, cohesiveness.

RHETORICAL VISION: A COMPOSITE DRAMA SHARED BY A RHETORICAL COMMUNITY

Up to this point in the chapter, my description and illustration of symbolic con-vergence theory has focused on shared fantasies in small-group settings. That’s where SCT was spawned. But early in the theory’s development, the Turtle Rac-ers discovered that shared fantasies weren’t con! ned to a small-group context. As Bormann explained, “Fantasies that begin in small groups often are worked into public speeches, become picked up by mass media and ‘spread out across larger publics.’” 16 Once attuned to the basic concepts of SCT, these scholars spot-ted swirling batches of related fantasy themes and types in all sorts of commu-nication texts. Bormann coined the term rhetorical vision to designate “a

Rhetorical vision A composite drama that catches up large groups of people into a common symbolic reality.


composite drama that catches up large groups of people into a common symbolic reality.” 17 He called the wide-ranging body of people who share that reality a rhetorical community . The majority of research conducted using SCT has been aimed at capturing the rhetorical visions of dispersed rhetorical communities and ! guring out how their communication created their uni! ed fantasies. Researchers don’t have the bene! t of sitting in a room with the whole community while waiting for a fan-tasy to chain out as evidence of a fantasy theme. So Bormann and his colleagues developed a procedure called fantasy theme analysis to discover fantasy themes and rhetorical visions that have already been created.

Fantasy Theme Analysis

Fantasy theme analysis is a speci! c type of rhetorical criticism that’s built on two basic assumptions. First, people create their social reality—a premise shared by many interpretive theorists (see Chapters 5, 6, 12, and 13). Second, people’s meanings, motives, and emotions can be seen in their rhetoric. So when a dis-persed community embraces the same rhetorical vision, that’s reality for them. They aren’t pretending. A rhetorical critic using fantasy theme analysis looks for recurring fantasy themes in the text. If found, the critic should then discern if these shared fanta-sies are woven together into a rhetorical vision. In addition to using the basic SCT concepts already discussed, Bormann suggested that the critic look for at least four features that are present in all rhetorical visions. 18

1. Characters: Are there heroes to root for and villains to despise?

2. Plot lines: Do characters act in a way consistent with the rhetorical vision?

3. Scene: How do descriptions of time and place increase the drama’s impact?

4. Sanctioning agent: Who or what legitimates the rhetorical vision?

I’ll describe a fantasy theme analysis of Internet websites to show how these tools can reveal a rhetorical vision and show how it’s created and sustained within a dispersed rhetorical community.

The Symbolic Creation of a Pro-Eating Disorder Rhetorical Vision

For those who are anorexic and/or bulimic, the world of face-to-face commu-nication can be a lonely place. Afraid of condemnation if they reveal their eating disorder, they often live a life of secrecy, deception, and guilt. Although 12-step programs extend social support to those who want to overcome their disease, not all people with food disorders want to change. The Internet offers hundreds of pro-eating disorder websites where those who resist recovery can anonymously interact with like-minded others. Wayne State University com-munication professor Jessi McCabe conducted a fantasy theme analysis to “explore how group exchanges on these websites rede! ne a reality largely rejected by the cultural norm and what elements contribute to creating this worldview.” 19 She chose the 12 most active pro-food disorder sites for her analysis. The message boards on the three most popular sites—Blue Dragon Fly, Pro-Ana Suicide Society, and Fragile Innocence—had a combined member-ship of more than 25,000 users.

Fantasy theme analysis A type of rhetorical criti-cism used to detect fan-tasy themes and rhetorical visions; the interpretive methodology of SCT.


Fantasy types are an SCT category midway between speci� c fantasy themes and an overall rhetorical vision. McCabe found that two contrasting fantasy types emerged in her analysis—a positive one and a negative one. She labeled the positive fantasy type “The humorous world of Ana and Mia.” Within this world, fantasy chains reinforce site users’ eating habits and shared reality. Across the message boards, members personify their disorders as characters in an ongoing drama.

Members depict their own goals, struggles, and emotions through the personi� ca-

tion of Ana and Mia. Anorexia and bulimia are given life and attributed human-

like emotions and qualities, which are justi� ed by the sanctioning agent, humor.

The most favorable depiction is a girl named Ana (anorexia), who represents the

goal of the group, the idolization of perfection in this reality. Perfection is about

having self-control and being thin. Personi� ed through Ana is a yearning for being

untouchable and perfect. 20

Message-board users write about Ana as their hero. (“Ana knows what to say to make me feel better.” 21 ) They also confess lapses and seek her forgiveness. (“Dear Ana, I am sorry that I failed you. . . . Not only did I fail you but I binged.”) Unlike Ana, Mia (bulimia) isn’t seen as perfect. Her role in the drama is to stir up the emotions users feel as they struggle to get down to the elusive perfect weight. Site users rarely describe Mia in positive terms. One post complains, “Mia is SO loud and annoying . . . my Mom heard Mia because she can’t keep her [stinking] mouth shut!” Yet other messages reluctantly suggest Mia is needed. “Sometimes she is all right . . . she lets me eat . . . keeps my body pure.” The third character in this ongoing drama is the villainous ED (eating disorder). He represents the social norm of moderation and recovery from addiction. McCabe explains why he’s so feared: “Members not only try to avoid ED for fear of recovery but the group knows that accepting ED means a loss of community and a reentry into a reality in which eating disorders are a negative attribute.” 22 The discussion of these three characters constructs an alternative world where high-risk dieters aren’t hassled. Despite the lurking presence of ED, who reminds everyone of another reality “out there,” this positive fantasy type is a closed world where anorexics and bulimics feel safe. McCabe sees humor as the sanctioning agent that makes this constructed reality legitimate for site users. The satirical exchange of experiences turns discussion of a deadly disease into a game that validates what these users are doing, saying, and living. Conversely, the negative fantasy type portrayed on these message boards is “Surviving encounters with The Real World,” a distressing place for those who visit these websites. McCabe notes that almost all users log on to get tips on “safe” foods and how to hide their eating habits and symptoms from friends and family. The scene of the struggle in “the real world” is almost always part of this fantasy type. Many posts include references to time and space.

I hate coming home at night. . . . I am with Ana all day and I cannot eat . . . but

when I get home Ana stays at the door and I just binge.

How can I live with Mia if we are sharing community bathrooms in our dorm?

McCabe doesn’t explicitly address plot lines in her fantasy theme analysis, but from her rich description two plots seem paramount. The � rst is acting in multiple ways to reduce weight—dieting, exercising, and purging. The second plot is doing whatever one has to do to keep the extent of this obsession with food a secret from those who don’t share it.


McCabe concludes that the rhetorical vision of the pro-eating disorder com-munity is the uneasy coexistence of these two contrasting fantasy types— The humorous world of Ana and Mia and Surviving encounters with The Real World. She writes, “The rhetorical vision shared by this group is the effort to maintain a disease within settings where their belief is challenged and get back to the state where the personi! cation of the disease can proliferate.” 23

THEORY INTO PRACTICE: ADVICE TO IMPROVE YOUR COLLEGE EXPERIENCE

As you’ve gained an understanding of symbolic convergence theory, you’ve probably thought about its implications for a group in which you take part. No matter what your role in the group, Bormann offered the following advice: 24

• When the group begins to share a drama that in your opinion would con-tribute to a healthy culture, you should pick up the drama and feed the chain.

• If the fantasies are destructive, creating group paranoia or depression, cut the chain off whenever possible.

• To build cohesiveness, use personi! cation to identify your group.

• Be sure to encourage the sharing of dramas depicting your group history early in your meetings.

• Remember that a conscious rhetorical effort on your part can succeed in igniting a chain reaction, but the fantasy may take an unexpected turn.

Bormann and his followers have also used fantasy theme analysis to improve organizational communication, conduct market research, and assess public opin-ion. To illustrate the pragmatic value of the methodology, John Cragan (Illinois State University) and Donald Shields (University of Missouri–St. Louis) require students in their applied research classes to analyze the way that high school seniors talk about college. They ! nd that most rhetorical visions employ one of three competing master analogues—a righteous vision, a social vision, or a prag-matic vision. 25 Potential applicants who embrace a righteous vision are interested in a school’s academic excellence, the reputation of its faculty, and special programs that it offers. Those who adopt a social vision view college as a means of getting away from home, meeting new friends, and joining others in a variety of social activi-ties. High school seniors who buy into a pragmatic vision are looking for a mar-ketable degree that will help them get a good job. (What was your vision when you entered college?) Knowledge of these distinct visions could help admissions of! cers at your school develop a strategy to appeal to high school students who would most appreciate the character of their campus. That knowledge could also help you ! gure out if you’re at a school that can best meet your needs.

CRITIQUE: JUDGING SCT AS BOTH A SCIENTIFIC AND INTERPRETIVE THEORY

Ernest Bormann claimed that symbolic convergence theory is both objective and interpretive. The theory’s basic explanatory hypothesis— sharing group fantasies creates symbolic convergence— is framed as a universal principle that holds for all people, in any culture, at any time, in any communication context. 26 De! nitely objective. But the methodology of determining fantasy themes, fantasy types,


and rhetorical visions is rhetorical criticism—a humanistic approach that’s undeniably interpretive. Perhaps this unusual mix has stimulated many of the 1,000 original research studies that have examined and applied the theory over the last 40 years. 27 Bormann wryly noted that one positive result from SCT has been the collaboration between “muddleheaded anecdotalists and hardheaded empiricists.” 28 When the six standards for judging a social science theory and the six criteria for evaluating an interpretive theory are applied to SCT, the theory stacks up remarkably well. I’ll single out four of these benchmarks for further discussion.

1. A good objective theory explains what occurs and why it happened. The concept of symbolic convergence can help us make sense of chaotic group discussions. Even though group leaders urge members to speak one at a time and stick to the point , participants often go off on verbal tangents. According to SCT, graphic digressions and boisterous talk aren’t signs of a ! awed process; rather, they are evidence that the group is chaining out a fantasy and developing a group con-sciousness. This explanation of how groups become cohesive is a strength of the theory. However, Boston College communication professor James Olufowote doesn’t believe Bormann’s explanation goes far enough. In a sympathetic critique aimed at making the theory better, he contends that “SCT does not suf" ciently explain why humans are predisposed to dramatizing reality and sharing fantasy in the " rst place.” 29

2. A good objective theory predicts what’s going to happen. SCT clearly predicts that when a fantasy chain erupts among members, symbolic convergence will occur. The theory even suggests that without shared fantasies, there will be no cohe-siveness. But as discussed earlier in the chapter, SCT researchers have had little success predicting when a dramatizing message will trigger a chain reaction. Bormann noted that uncertainty about the future isn’t bothersome in other sci-enti" c theories. He saw symbolic convergence theory as similar to Darwin’s bio-logical theory of evolution in that respect.

An evolutionary theory can explain the way modern humans evolved from earlier

humanoid individuals. But, such theories cannot predict the future path of evolu-

tion. . . . SCT involves a careful cataloguing of group consciousness through time.

The theory also includes a description of the dynamic forces that provide a neces-

sary and suf" cient set of causes to explain the discovered communication patterns.

For an evolution theory the dynamic may be the survival of the " ttest. For SCT the

dynamic is the process of group sharing. 30

3. A good interpretive theory clari! es people’s values. There’s no doubt that fantasy theme analysis uncovers the values of a rhetorical community. It does that well. But Olufowote is concerned about the unexamined values that undergird SCT. 31 One concern is an ideology of convergence. The terms that describe its effects— common ground, meeting of the minds, empathic communion, etc.—make it clear that the theory has a pro-social bias. Shall we look at the convergence of hate groups or pro-eating disorder websites as a positive outcome? A second concern Olufowote expresses is an egalitarian assumption that ignores issues of power within groups. For example, do all members of a group bene" t equally when a fantasy chains out? Does an inside joke become a symbolic cue at the expense of one of the members? A " nal concern is about the way members of a rhetorical community are characterized. The communities described


come across as con� ict-free, differences among members are ignored, and there’s little discussion of the inner tension a member feels when the multiple rhetorical visions he or she embraces don’t mesh.

4. A good interpretive theory offers a new understanding of people. SCT’s method of fantasy theme analysis does this exceptionally well by directing rhetorical critics to focus on symbolic language. A few scholars charge that the best fantasy theme analyses are the result of critics’ astute perception or acumen rather than the method they use. 32 Bormann acknowledged that some critics do it better than others. But he noted that regardless of how perceptive the critic, the method used makes a huge difference. For example, a Marxist critique looks for economic exploitation; a feminist critique looks for patterns of male dominance. Think how different the analyses of cigar store smokers or pro-eating disorder message-board users would be if DeSantis or McCabe hadn’t zeroed in on imaginative language. With that lens in place, fantasy theme analysts uncover rhetorical visions as varied as the communities they study. When I read a well-written fantasy theme analysis, I gain a greater appreciation for the fascinating diversity within the human race.

1. As a rhetorically sensitive scholar, Bormann de! ned SCT terms carefully. Can you distinguish the difference between dramatizing messages and fantasies ? Do you understand why it’s a difference that makes a difference?

2. Some critics dismiss SCT as a cookie-cutter approach to group analysis. Could this be said of most social science theories? Bormann regarded the charge as a compliment. 33 Can you ! gure out why he was pleased rather than offended?

3. Bormann insisted that SCT is an objective theory that’s valid any time and in any culture, but that its methodology, fantasy theme analysis, is interpretive. Do you regard SCT as a better objective or interpretive theory? Why?

4. Bormann was intrigued with a T-shirt that proclaims, “I have given up my search for truth. Now I want to ! nd a good fantasy.” 34 Based on what you’ve read, does this slogan re� ect the symbolic world of SCT advocates? Does it re� ect yours?

QUESTIONS TO SHARPEN YOUR FOCUS

A SECOND LOOK Recommended resource: Ernest G. Bormann, John Cragan, and Donald Shields, “Three

Decades of Developing, Grounding, and Using Symbolic Convergence Theory (SCT),” in

Communication Yearbook 25, William Gudykunst (ed.), Lawrence Erlbaum, Mahwah, NJ,

2001, pp. 271–313.

Brief summary: Ernest Bormann, “Symbolic Convergence Theory,” in Small Group Com-

munication Theory & Practice: An Anthology, 8 th ed., Randy Hirokawa, Robert Cathcart,

Larry Samovar, and Linda Henman (eds.), Roxbury, Los Angeles, CA, 2003, pp. 39–47.

Early statement of the theory: Ernest G. Bormann, “Fantasy and Rhetorical Vision:

The Rhetorical Criticism of Social Reality,” Quarterly Journal of Speech, Vol. 58, 1972,

pp. 396–407.

Small-group context: Ernest G. Bormann and Nancy C. Bormann, Effective Small Group

Communication, 5 th ed., Burgess, Edina, MN, 1992, pp. 105–126.


Organizational context: Ernest G. Bormann, “Symbolic Convergence: Organizational

Communication and Culture,” in Communication and Organizations: An Interpretive Approach,

Linda Putnam and Michael Pacanowsky (eds.), Sage, Beverly Hills, CA, 1983, pp. 99–122.

Fantasy theme analysis: Sonja K. Foss, Rhetorical Criticism: Exploration and Practice,

4 th ed., Waveland, Prospect Heights, IL, 2009, pp. 97–136.

Practical applications of assessing rhetorical visions: John F. Cragan and Donald C.

Shields, Symbolic Theories in Applied Communication Research: Bormann, Burke, and Fisher,

Hampton, Cresskill, NJ, 1995, pp. 161–198.

Cigar store ethnography: Alan D. DeSantis, “Smoke Screen: An Ethnographic Study of a

Cigar Shop’s Collective Rationalization,” Health Communication, Vol. 14, 2002, pp. 167–198.

Pro-eating disorder website analysis: Jessi McCabe, “Resisting Alienation: The Social

Construction of Internet Communities Supporting Eating Disorders,” Communication Stud-

ies, Vol. 60, 2009, pp. 1–15.

Early critique: G. P. Mohrmann, “An Essay on Fantasy Theme Criticism” and “Fantasy

Theme Criticism: A Peroration,” Quarterly Journal of Speech, Vol. 68, 1982, pp. 109–132,

306–313.

Response to early critics: Ernest G. Bormann, John Cragan, and Donald Shields, “In

Defense of Symbolic Convergence Theory: A Look at the Theory and Its Criticisms After

Two Decades,” Communication Theory, Vol. 4, 1994, pp. 259–294.

Contemporary critique: James O. Olufowote, “Rousing and Redirecting a Sleeping

Giant: Symbolic Convergence Theory and Complexities in the Communicative Constitu-

tion of Collective Action,” Management Communication Quarterly, Vol. 19, 2006, pp. 451–492.

Will our group stay like this or will it change?

That question is answered by Poole’s Adaptive Structuration Theory,

which appeared in previous editions. Click on Theory List at

www.a! rstlook.com.

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